A Game of Cat and Mouse
by bookiecoffeeaddict123
Summary: Dr. Charlotte Grace specializes in Fae Culture and when asked by a friend to step in for her class, she eagerly leaps at the chance to prove what she's worth. When a dark man threatens her, 'do as we say or leave', she chooses the option where she doesn't look cowardly. Now she must handle a sexy werewolf with an attitude problem and a serial killer whose eyes are on her.
1. Prologue

**Prologue of another Shitty Fanfic I'll Never Finish.**

The classroom was large. Along with large, it was empty and cold. The chairs were stacked upon rows of desks and the air felt stale. The lighting was dim, but what else would you expect in an anthro class for Fae studies? God, Charlotte was such a joke in the science community they gave her the classroom equivalent of a janitor's closet to teach in. Annoyance and embarrassment churned in her gut. She had two sides of three rows with enough space for maybe four students a row. Two small, high windows leaked in the weak light of a setting sun. She turned to her chalk board; it was old and rather cliché. It will have to do, she thought, it will have to do.

While Charlotte indulged herself with frivolous self-pity, she heard the faint clamor of footsteps coming down the supposed to be empty hall. She turned around, her black and white sneakers clicked on the tile floor. Charlotte's hair fell against her neck and flouted around her face, the frayed and frizzy ends tickled her cheeks. She stood firmly with her back facing the chalkboard and her gaze towards the door. She wasn't cautious by nature, but paranoid by the fact that she was supposed to be alone in the building. No one else should be in here, it was nearly eight in the evening and the other professors had gone to a local bar to celebrate some biochemist's retirement. She had also said goodnight to the janitor an hour ago. Oh, calm yourself, Charlie. There is no reason to be afraid- someone most likely just forgot something. Probably some forgetful student, she thought. She was once too a student of that sorts; forgetful, bouncy, and not precisely studious.

But she had a professor who saw something in her, something no else ever did. Charlotte hoped one day to inspire another student like she was inspired, which is why she volunteered to do this. A firm, echoing knock bounced from the walls. She sighed, aborting her plans to practice her welcoming speech.

"I'm in here," Charlotte shouted and turned back to the chalkboard.

She scanned the greenish board and picked up a grainy, while piece of chalk. She twisted it between her fingers while she planned out what she was going to write. Maybe something like an uplifting quote, she thought.

"Doctor Grace?"

Charlotte turned around, tapping her forehead. "Yes?"

"My name is Thaddeus and I have a proposition for you," the speaker was average height, average weight, and average looking. Nothing too special- in fact he was so ordinary it was unordinary.

She raised her eyebrows in suspicion. She had been indirectly integrated by Fae before; her specialization practically asked for it. "Look, on a normal day, I'd be happy to play cat and mouse with you. 'Why did you specialize in Fae studies?' 'Are you Fae?', but it's just that today I'm kind of busy and I was up early-"

This Thaddeus, or-so he called himself, held up his hand. "Not your first rodeo, I take it."

"You could say that," Charlotte raked a hand through her knotted hair.

"Have you found a place to live while you fill in for Dr. Hinkle?" Thaddeus crossed his arms over his brown suit jacket. He knew she hadn't. How could she? Who would rent to someone who studied Fae culture in this day and age?

She pursed her lips and gave him an expectant look. If he didn't make his point soon, she'd call security. Not that it'd do much good, there wasn't any at this secluded part of the campus and it would take far too long for a guard to get to her. Judging by the way he walked, he knew this as well.

"I thought so. Let me give it to you straight- no one will rent to you, especially not after the warning a… associate… of mine put out," pure boiling rage bubbled in Charlotte. She'd heard of desperate, even overstepping, but this was extraordinary in the worst kind of way. "The Reservation wants to keep an eye on you and you need to live somewhere, right?"

Thaddeus continued despite the look of reprieve on her face, "Well, I have a deal to make with you, if you are interested. Of course, you could always go running back to Reno, just like everyone expected."

Goddamn. She would never do that, even if it meant risking her life.

And she got the feeling that's exactly what it would take.


	2. Chapter One

**Chapter One of the Shitty Fan-fiction**

Charlotte was not stupid nor was she naïve enough to think she wasn't being played. However, she was smart enough to know she could benefit from the experience of living next to door to _werewolves_. She did have to remember that she couldn't just walk up to them and ask any questions she wanted to. If she played her cards right, she could try to at least get the answers she needed to sustain her curiosity. She pushed back a few curls that fell loose out of a clumsily done braid Charlotte only did because she didn't have time to get her hair wet in the morning. She hadn't even had time to sleep that night- hopefully since Mrs. Hauptman scheduled their meeting so early that she had others things planned and she could take a nap before she had class that evening.

She drove down a decently paved road, the sun rose over the horizon in a gentle glow. The morning was grey, typical for fall, and the fog was like a floating wall. The rain had just stopped before she got home from the university campus. Home being a motel room she was living in with her cat. Her mother would have rolled over in her grave if she had seen the condition of her room. Charlotte's beat up Bug rumbled as she pulled into the small drive way of her new home. The place was small, white and just a bit shabby, not her usual style but she wasn't about to complain. Charlotte's open knit sweater, while heavy, still let in a chill. Her skin prickled as she opened the door. The hinges creaked and she grimaced in response. Her whole car needed to be fixed, but she couldn't even imagine what the bill would be and she had no intention of paying something that huge at the moment. First thing first, she had to make a good impression on Mercy Hauptman.

The green grass was sparkling with frost while each step she took Charlotte sunk into mud. Disgusting, she thought. Her cat was going to get awfully muddy if she wasn't sure to keep him inside. Her hair flew around her wildly as the wind began to really get going and the air dropped 10 degrees. The sweet smell of dew clung to back of her throat. She looked around and saw no one. Even the drive away to the _really nice_ house next to hers was completely and utterly empty. Creepy. Charlotte hated the strange feeling crawling up her spine- it was like she was being watched. It's just in my head, she assured herself. She stiffly trotted up the porch steps with her arms wrapped around herself.

The porch boards creaked underneath her and Charlotte felt even more watched while the wind rattled through the shutters. She pushed pass the unnerved feeling, reminding herself that she had an impatient kitty waiting for in a crate in the back of her car. Tucked in between the door the frame, she found a piece of wrinkled paper. Scratched into was 'Sorry I couldn't be here. Key is under mat, I got your first payment. –Mercy'. Hm. Charlotte wasn't sure how she felt about that, especially since hadn't made a payment. She was just following the instructions left for her by _Thaddeus_. Such a name, she wondered how long it took him to make it up.

She squatted down and lifted up the heavy 'Welcome' mat. Underneath she found the small, brass key. She tossed it around in her hand and unlocked the door. It took a few jingles of the doorknob before it finally came loose, but it flung open forcefully. The house itself was… roomy. The living space wasn't big, but it wouldn't suffocate her either. She was grateful for that. She heard a squishing sound underfoot and looked down. Her boots had tracked in mud onto her new carpet. New to her at least, she thought as she looked over the stained carpet. Huh.

Doesn't matter, she told herself. She was just going to roll out her mattress and sleep anyway. After the week she'd had, it was all she wanted to do anyway. She abandoned her new house and headed back to her car. First, she brought in her few bags and two suitcases; popped open her trunk and slung her travel mattress over her shoulders. She shut her trunk and a halo of light frost bounced off it. She opened her backseat and lifted up a leopard print, kitty-crate with a hissing tom beating against it.

"Shh, Chester," she cooed.

Chester fell silent in his crate; he always did when she was there. She could feel a small shift in the atmosphere. It was small, but enough to make her rush into her new home and lock the door. She glanced around again, checking to ensure she was alone.

"OK, well, my paranoia has reached a new level," she spoke aloud into the quiet and dismal house.

Chester mewed from inside his plastic encampment. Charlotte bent down and released him, figuring she'd feel better if she weren't alone in her exploration of her new dwelling. Light spilled in through a window and casted shadows down a narrow hall with only three doors. She assumed it was the guest bedroom, the bedroom, and the bathroom. A two bedroom house wasn't bad, in fact it kind of nice considering yesterday she couldn't find a place to live at all. She still had a bad feeling about the entire situation- a gut feeling telling her that this was going to end horribly. While she knew it was silly, that no harm would come to her, Charlotte couldn't share the lingering doubts.

She opened the closed doors and did a quick sweep of the rooms. Empty. She was alone in the house and while that should have been comforting, it left her feeling as empty as the rooms. She had no family to ask to stay with her and all her friends were in Nevada where she recently graduated. She chewed on her bottom lip to avoid crying at the sudden loneliness that took her over. She leaned against the wall of the hallway and slid down. A tremor shook her to her core as she lost the battle and began to cry. The emotions thundered through her like an earthquake. The loneliness, the anger, the loss, the grief- it all came out. This wasn't the first time it happened too, it was always when she was alone. You can't hide from yourself when there's no one else there.

 _Mew!_

Charlotte looked up, sniffling. Chester walked down the hallway, his orange fur glowing like fire with the sunlight behind him. His fair green eyes flashed with intelligence. He slunk down against her legs and began to purr. She stroked him with a trembling hand as her sobs lessened. She was grateful for her cat; she didn't know what she'd do without him. It was silly to feel so strongly for an animal, but to he was so much more than just that. He was her family. Her little, fluffy orange baby, Charlotte thought whimsically. She wiped the tears from her cheeks and picked herself back up. There were more important things to think about than her- like what she needed to plan for her students, getting more cat food, finding out why Thaddeus approached her specifically. If he was such a know-it-all, he'd know that she wasn't much of threat since she couldn't get government funding if she were drinking buddies with the President.

She went to her bright, sparkly turquoise bags and suitcases that had been a gift from a dearly beloved friend in Reno. She smiled at the gawky, if not tacky, bags that she absolutely adored. Jason was gifted when it came to, well, gifting. Not only were the bags extremely useful since she had done a lot of travelling through Europe for her senior project, but they suited her completely. Charlotte already missed Jason, she was her favorite person to go out to pizza with and he was always down to see a late night showing of an old movie at the dollar theater. Another wave of choked up emotion slammed into her. You'd think at twenty-four she'd actually be able to keep it together, she scolded herself. She picked up and unrolled her mattress on the floor. She didn't feel like picking out a room. She unzipped one of the smaller suitcases and pulled out a set of sheets. She quickly made the sorry excuse for a bed and kicked off her shoes. She crawled underneath the silky soft, cool sheets and pulled over a fluffy, overstuffed heart pillow she had received last Valentine's Day. She closed her eyes and drifted slowly into sleep. Even with all the light pouring in from the rising sun, Charlotte was stilling falling asleep.

Falling being the keyword, just before she could actually fall asleep, there was a knock on the door. After a series of internal groans, she flipped off the sheets and made her disgruntled way to the door. When she flung the door open, she was expecting to see Mercy or Thaddeus, instead there a tall, lean blonde man leaning against the frame. He had sharp features that reminded Charlotte of a cat. Elegant, cocky, and lovely. He blue eyes flashed something sinister when they reached her and she felt herself shudder despite herself.

"Dr. Grace?" He asked, prolonging 'Grace' with his sharp, cockney English accent. "You are something lovely, aren't you girl?"

"Excuse me?" She stumbled with alarm. _Girl?_ She thought venomously, who did he think he was?

"Of course," he retorted and pushed past her.

This Englishman looked around her room, his eyes stopped at her rumpled bed. He raised brows and looked at her with a crooked smile, "Convenient, eh? Don't need to worry about taking strange men to your bedroom."

"OK, you need to leave," Charlotte snapped, flushed. "Who even are you?"

"Oh, how rude of me," the man stepped towards her, nearly to close for comfort. "My name is Ben," he said and leaned into her. Against her ear, he whispered, "And what might your name be?"

She was flabbergasted, but not stupid. "My name's Charlotte Grace, but I presume you knew that already."

She stepped away, but held his gaze. Ben watched her, scrutinizing, "I did. What can I say, I like to keep my friends close," he drifted off towards the door, but before leaving he looked back at her, "and my enemies closer."

Charlotte swallowed hard and her eyes widened. Her gut churned again and she began to wonder whether or not this was actually a good idea.


	3. Chapter Two

**Chapter Two of the Shitty Fan Fiction**

Charlotte's smart phone rang over and over until she rolled off her mattress. She reached and blindly swatting at the floor until she felt the buzzing of alarm. Squinting at the bright scene, it hit her that it was dark out. Oh lovely, she thought and sat up too quickly. With blurry eyes and all the blood rushing to her head, Charlotte fled to the bathroom. It was small, but the layout was convenient for movement. She looked at the clock on the bright screen and, if it were correct, she had forty minutes till class. Maybe no one would show up and she wouldn't technically be late? She was so frustrated with herself. If she was late, she would just be that much more of a joke to people. Nausea pinched at her stomach as her nerves went haywire.

She quickly shampooed her hair and washed her face. She scrubbed herself down with a coconut body scrub. Finished with her shower, she slipped into a pair of black slacks and white blouse and a red cardigan. Charlotte air-blow dried her hair curly hair and immediately regretted it while she scrunched the brown mess with a curl crème. She wore her makeup simple with a quick cat eye and some blush added for pizazz. She gave herself a somewhat approving look and darted out the door, shouting a goodbye to Chester.

Charlotte noted that her neighbor's driveway was no longer empty, it was now packed full. Several very nice cars were parked in front, but the one that caught her attention was a red truck. Particularly the red truck with a particular blonde, arrogant Englishman leaning against and, boy, did he notice her. Ben stood up and sauntered her way. Swallowing hard, she all but ran to her Bug. She fumbled with her keys, trying very hard to unlock her car before her current least favorite person arrived.

"Charlie, may I call you Charlie?"

Well. Shit.

"I think I owe you an apology for the way I acted earlier," Ben began, but stopped. "Hey, are you listening to me? You are holding that key all wrong," he leaned over her shoulder and Charlotte jumped back, knocking into him.

"Personal space!" Charlotte squealed while a firm, flat stomach pressed against back and a low, rumbling from Ben's chest shook her.

A large hand made its way to her belly, pulling her closer and she swatted it away. Charlotte flipped around. She was shocked, flushed, and genuinely upset. She didn't even know this guy and he was _touching_ her. She wasn't short by any means, but she did have to look up at him to meet his gaze burrowing into her. His face was the same- absolutely lovely, but his eyes weren't blue like she distinctly remembered. Instead, they were a deep, deep brown that nearly struck her as black. Charlotte's lecture on why personal space was important got stuck in her throat and was replaced by the pounding of her heart. There was no space between her and Ben; her chest pressed against his hard stomach with everything breathe she took.

"I'm running late my class," she said and turned around, her hands suddenly working faster and more efficient. She slipped into her car seat and started her car.

Ben moved aside and let her drive away. Her heart beat fast and vision was blurry. Her stomach was a flurry of butterflies and tingling sensations prickled her _entire_ body. Her jaw tensed as she forced herself to think only of the road. Which didn't work, at all. She closed her eyes and felt Ben's chest pressed against and gentle, timid feel of his hand grazing her soft stomach over her blouse that suddenly felt, very, very thin. She opened her eyes again, remembering that she was driving. A dark figure stood in the center of the shadowy road and Charlotte swerved out of the way. Her wheels skidded to a halt as her body lurched forward. She gasped with a scream caught in her throat. The front of her Bug hung of the ledge of a ditch. Oh God, did she hit someone? She flung her door open and stumbled out. Her legs felt like jelly as she fumbled around, searching the figure she saw.

She stood there for a minute and the adrenaline began to fade as she realized there was no one. She was just seeing things. Although that wasn't exactly comforting, it was better than her running someone over. Much, much better, she thought and raked her hand over her face. She desperately needed some sleep. She got back in her car, breathing slowly and carefully and began turning the car on all over again. She drove to the campus without a problem and all thoughts of Ben were completely gone. She pulled into the university parking lot. Only a few staff cars were there; she recognized the dean's and two other professors. One of the professors was an absolute ass of whom she made a silent pray she wouldn't come across tonight.

She gathered her bag and walked quickly to her classroom. Her hands began getting clammy with nervousness. What if her students were anti-Fae? That would be an amazing start to her career. Her chest tightened. Charlotte pushed the twin green doors and sped down a nearly empty hallway. She walked down the halls, passing some light classrooms and other's void of light. The soft patting of her shoes on the hardwood echoed of the walls. She very suddenly wished for the noisy, jumbled chattering of students and fecality members. It's just quiet, she told herself, get a grip. She found her way to her class room, C12. She entered her class and found it completely empty and just the way she left it.

While grateful she wasn't late to her own class, she felt a prickle of disappointment that there wasn't anyone waiting for Fae Studies 101. She sucked back the heavy weight on her chest and strutted to her desk with shoulders rolled back proudly. Project, project, she reminded herself. She walked over to the chalk board and lifted the piece of chalk and twisted it in between her fingers when footsteps stopped behind. She half expected Thaddeus when instead she saw a tall man with dark, sleek hair and eerily fair skin.

Startled, she asked, "Are you a student of mine?"

The dark man's lips quirked up, as he slyly replied, "That depends. Are you Dr. Grace?"

"I am," she smiled slightly.

The man wore a dark, fitted long sleeved tee and a pair of dark jeans, although he looked somewhat uncomfortable in them. He was tall, freakishly so. His shoulders slumped somewhat and his dark eyes bore into her.

"And who are you?" She shuffled, uncomfortable under gaze.

"Steve."

Hmm, not the name she would have given him. Raising her eyebrow and giving a somewhat approving look, Charlotte scanned the rest of the room. "I guess we're it for the night."

"I suppose so."

"Well, Mr. Steve, why don't you take a seat and I'll get started," she motioned towards the empty chairs in the front row.

"Of course, _Professor Grace_ ," Steve ducked down into a legs, his gangly legs sticking out from underneath.

She sketched on the chalk board her name, even though it was completely unnecessary, along with her lesson planned for the class. Charlotte rambled on about the Fae history and the different regions of Europe anthropologists thought Fae came from. Along with that, she discussed what evolutionary incidents may have allowed this to happen. Steve listened silently in his chair and only interrupted her once to ask if she thought there wasn't anything else out there.

"Well, before werewolves, I would have said no," Charlotte blabbered, thoroughly enjoying discussing a topic she was educated on. "But now, I'm open to the possibility of nearly anything," she finished, lowering her hands to her side.

Either she was very much so cut out for being a professor or Steve was the easiest man alive to talk to. She was beginning to think it was the latter, especially when Steve got up from his chair and brushed past her to the chalk board. He pointed towards a poorly draw Italy she had sketched when talking about her theory that Greek gods had existed as Fae.

"What else do you think comes from this country?"

"Besides good pizza?" Charlotte teased, rather unprofessionally.

"Did you make a joke, Professor Grace?" Steve looked yet again at her in the way that her feel completely at ease.

She shrugged, trying to brush him off. "Well, besides my theory of Greek gods, I haven't put much thought into Italy. You see Germany, France, and England are where our earliest recollections of Fae come from, not Italy or Greece."

"I see."

"That's all I had planned for class, Mr. Steve. I'm sorry for how small the class was," Charlotte blushed, embarrassed by her failed first class.

"Nonsense, it was a pleasure," Steve said with a friendly smile.

Charlotte turned around to get a paper from her desk for Steve. It was an article a friend had written on Italian and Greek mythology. Maybe this would answer some of his questions? But when she turned around, Steve was gone.

She held the paper in one hand and stood alone in her classroom. Her posture slumped with disappointment. She supposed it was inappropriate to want to befriend a student anyway. She'd have to meet potential friends another way. She set the article back on her desk and set an empty mug on it as a paperweight. The disappoint still clung as she packed up her things and prepared to head back her new home. She left her classroom and walked down the hall. She passed a worn out looking, older man in a janitor's uniform. Mr. Neville must not be on shift tonight. She waved goodnight to the man. His wrinkled face watched her as she left.

She walked through the dark parking lot, cold air nipped are her cheeks and nose. She shivered as she approached her car. Tingles raced up and down her spine. She turned around, expecting to find someone, but found only an empty space. You're losing your mind, she thought to herself. There was no one there watching her, no one there at all. She fumbled with her keys and unlocked the driver's side. She tossed her purse to the passenger's side and started up the engine. She pulled out of the parking lot and drove down a dark street with dark buildings on either side. She kept driving until she found an open Dutch Bros. Charlotte ordered her favorite 'Cocomo' with a double shot and headed home.

The drive was felt longer than before. The only radio station coming in was 90's rock and her heater wasn't working. The slow melody of Nirvana lulled her to a suspicious ease. She shook off the sleepy feeling and drove down the road leading to her house. She drove past the Hauptman's residence and pulled into her driveway. The house looked dark and lonely as she turned the car off and locked it behind her. She made her way somberly to her front steps. Her feet patted on the wooden slabs and a cool, fall breeze carried a soft smell of rain. Just as she was about to unlock her front door, Charlotte noticed a letter tucked half way beneath her door.

"Hello?" She called and looked around her, searching to see if whoever left was still there.

With no response, she went inside her new home. The living room was frigid, even colder than outside. She went to the heater's dial and turned it up until she heard a quiet _click._ The letter was tucked under her arm and she called for Chester. Her cat mewed from a backroom, a good enough answer for her, so she settled down on her mattress bed. The letter was in a plain white envelope with her name scribbled on the front in black ink. The letter itself was messy and hard to read. She reached clumsily for the light switch while she still attempted to interpret the letter in the dark. Finally, with some added light, the muddled words made sense. Sort of. It was scribbled ramblings, lacking any true motive. That was until she reached the end of it.

 ** _'_** ** _You can't ignore me forever- I know you see me in the shadows. I'll get your attention one way or another._**

 **** ** _Yours forever, X'_**

 ****How pleasant.


	4. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three: I Can't Believe I Made It This Far**

 _Ring!_

 _Ring!_

"What the actual fu-" Ben was cut short by a tall, broad shouldered man standing over his bed.

"Warren, mate, I don't know how long you've been here, but I feel obligated to inform you that I am not Kevin."

"Yeah, yeah, out of bed, dumbass," Warren threw his covers back and walked over to Ben's window, opening the blinds.

"Jesus," Ben cursed, "What the hell?"

"Watch your tongue, buddy," Warren crossed his arms in a parental way. "It's nearly three in the afternoon and we've got _things_ to discuss."

Bloody bastard. Ben knew what Warren, rather Kevin, wanted to talk about. It was that damned Doctor Grace- Charlie. Ben's stomach tightened and he felt a clawing at his chest. It wasn't him feeling this way, he told himself, it was just the wolf. He would repeat that over and over until he believed it too. For right now, he could only think about those gorgeous, wide, exotically shaped blue eyes with blown flecks like amber. Damn.

"Are you thinking about her right now?" Warren asked, sounding sincere.

Ben sat up and looked up at him, unsure of what to say. He was the one with the most control over his primal side and he was going to lose that to a bloody woman? The butterflies in his stomach were replaced with churning anger that would have alarmed Warren if he could feel it. Ben was not going to lose anything to _Charlotte._ He wouldn't allow it.

"No, I'm not."

"I know you're lying."

"She's got a nice rack, that's all," Ben smiled devilishly and stood up, in all his nude glory.

"Now ya see, Kevin actually said she was small breasted-"

"Kevin was looking at her breasts?" Ben snapped, but regained composure. It doesn't matter, he thought.

"Damn, Ben," Warren chuckled heartily. "You need to get laid."

Ben threw a pillow at the retreating Warren. The fucking faggot, Ben growled. He moved over to his bathroom, ranking the shower to its near hottest setting. He stepped and was immediately exhilarated by the warmth. Ben washed his hair with a plain shampoo. It had taken his ages to find a brand that didn't completely reek. He ended his shower and dried off with an itchy towel. He left the steamy room and walked over to his dresser. The secondhand wood was stained and the dresser itself was shaky, but usable. He pulled out a pair of jeans and plain, green T-shirt. Looking outside his window, directing facing his living and lighting up his entire open floored and cramped apartment, he noted the cloudy skies and wind pushing tree branches back. He grabbed a navy blue hoodie with 'London' on it. It had been a joke from a former packmate back home, but it was now a comfort. He wouldn't admit how much he truly missed his home, but he was relieved to be free from the press.

Ben abandoned his apartment for a quick walk to bakery and café down the street. These Washington people would be dead without their over-glorified coffee stops, he snorted. The air was brisk as Ben walked down a beat up sidewalk. The wind flushed his face and ruffled his blonde hair. Cars raced past him, there engines echoing in his head. The loud noises were something he had 7gotten used to when he was first turned. Although horrible at times, it had become normal after so long. The café was a lone building with crummy shackling for 'aesthetic affect' he had been told. He pushed the heavy, painted blue door open and welcomed the smell of robust coffee, bitter beans, and the sweet bready scents of the bakery.

Goddamn.

Ben stopped in his tracks. There, in the front of the short line, was the infamous Doctor Grace. His stomach flopped with his heart pounding and his skin crawled. How was this creature everywhere? Charlotte turned around, her curly mess of hair fluffed around her, a few inches below her shoulders, while the lighting reflected off her blonde highlights. Her lovely lips formed a perfect 'o' when she saw him. Ben smiled bitterly, hoping his excitement wasn't transparent.

"Charlie," while he had planned some else more witty, only her name left his mouth.

"Hello," Charlotte rolled her shoulders back, her posture stiffened.

Her eyebrows scrunched slightly and nose twitched with defiance. Ben's lips quirked upward in a pleased smile and he wondered if Charlie had been thinking about him like he had been thinking her.

"How's your morning, love?" Ben stepped towards her, while Charlie took a step back.

Now it was his turn to look defiant. Why was she backing away from when just yesterday she was quite pleased to be pressed against him? Annoyance and the sudden need to kiss her pink, pouty lips stirred him. Damn, he cursed himself. He shouldn't be drawn to this common _bitch_. The word sounded vile his mind, unfitting for Charlie, but as he skewered her appearance he told himself it was true. She was wearing a bright orange and oversized shirt over leggings, matched with a pair of ridiculously bright sneakers, half her face was masked with a pair of geeky, black framed glasses with a dash of makeup in all the right places. She looked like such a damn girl, delicate and sweet. She was everything he hated, he told himself.

"Perfectly fine," She retorted, holding a steaming latte and a maple banana muffin. "And you?"

"Oh, just peachy," Ben said, eying her defined looking legs. The leggings hugged every curve of them.

"Great," she said and turned around and walked to a table by one of the large windows, facing the road.

Ben watched her ass switch with side to side with her feminine walk. Damn was right. He followed her and sat at the seat opposing her. Her features showed her surprised, but also evident happiness- although she quickly hid it. He smiled, pride swelling his chest. So she didn't want him gone completely. He reached over the small, circular bistro table and snagged her latte. Her thick eyebrows rose as he took a decent sip of the sweet, warm liquid. He handed it back to her as watched as she followed his example. Her cheeks flushed with fresh color and she set the drink down. She lifted her muffin towards him in a silent gesture. Ben had to fight a genuine smile as he took a bite off the moist, banana breakfast. Was this the kind of person she was, the kind who shared meals with strangers?

She looked out the window and watched several cars pass as she took several drinks of her latte. Ben noticed she herself hadn't touched her muffin.

"You know that really is a sad excuse for a breakfast," He said. "And you haven't touched it."

Charlotte looked shocked, then annoyed. "You sound like my mother. I'm not much of a breakfast person."

Her mother, eh? Ben raised his eyebrows, "Not a breakfast person," he clicked his tongue teasingly. "Breakfast is the most important meal of the day."

"So I've been told," Charlotte smiled, a blush tinged her cheeks and the tip of her nose.

Ben wanted to tease her more, just to see her blush again. This realization caught been off guard and he suddenly felt nauseated. He looked at Charlotte and this time saw a dirty flirt. She was just like the rest, he spat.

"But, I guess you're just one of those carb watching bitches," Ben snapped ruthlessly.

Hurt flashed across her face and Ben pushed off the table and left the warmth of the café. He knew Charlotte was probably watching as he left, but he didn't dare turn around in case he might regret his jab.

Charlotte threw away her nearly untouched muffin, her already small appetite completely gone. One of the servers, a young man with auburn hair and freckles approached her.

"Who was that dick?" He asked, but moved on quickly, "Are you alright?"

"Yes, I am, thank you," Charlotte forced a smile and left with her latte.

She felt hurt by Ben's remark, even though it was completely ridiculous and, frankly, uncalled for. She thought they were having a perfectly pleasant time. Was it possible that she was just desperate for friendship? Her heart sunk again and she promised herself not to forget this. A cold wind hit her bare arms, sending chills up and down her skin. She shivered and hopped into her driver's seat. She reached behind and grabbed a grey jacket she had paid far too much for at Victoria's Secret. She slipped into its chill sleeves. She was nearly tempted to take off, but she told herself it would warm up soon. She cranked her car on and began her trip to the local shelter. She had decided that Chester was far too lonely and, honestly, it was bit of an emotional decision. Her cats made her feel less alone and she could really use some kitten cuteness right now.

Ben's words echoed in her head, ' _just one of those carb watching bitches'_. It stung. Especially since as a teenager she had struggled with food quite a bit and prided herself on her improvements. She tried to shake off his words and forced herself to think about all the cute, fluffy kittens she was about to meet. Who could be sad when they were about to adopt a new baby? She thought and smiled. Charlotte drove down several roads, cursing at her GPS app.

" _Turn left,"_ it said.

"I have," Charlotte snapped at the digital roadmap, "twice."

Putting one last bit of trust into the GPS, she turned left again and saw the sign for the animal shelter. 'Sunnyside Animal Shelter: Friends and Family Members Await!', how chipper. Despite her sour mood that Charlotte was determined to shake off, she did find the sign to be incredibly cute. She drove up the long, bumpy driveway that lead to what looked like an old, two-story Victorian in front of a cement building she was assuming was the shelter. She pulled into a tight parking space and happily hopped out. Her mood had quickly shifted to excitement. She followed a sign that was posted in front of the red and brown brick Victorian that said 'front office'. She walked up the stairs that were surrounded by vivid red, roses and some offer thick, weedy looking plant. She was a small tug at the back of her mind, like she knew the name of the plant, but just couldn't place it. In fact, she had been feeling that since she approached the house.

There was something here that she couldn't quite place.

She timidly twisted the knob and walked in. The house was warm and smelled of allspice and firewood. Ease and a sense of welcoming flustered her. A soft _ding_ followed her as the door shut behind her.

"One moment!" A woman's voice called from a backroom behind a front desk. "How can I help you today?" The woman said as she pushed through a red, swinging door.

The woman was holding a stack of books that she dropped the moment she laid eyes on Charlotte. "My God."

"Oh, ma'am," Charlotte moved quickly over to wear the woman stood, walking around the front desk.

She bent over and began picking up a series of books of different animals with price tags on them. She lifted them up and handed to them to woman, who remained still with wide eyes and her mouth open. Charlotte stayed quiet and waited for her to speak first. The woman looked mid-forties; she had greying black hair, light green, doe shaped eyes, and a curvaceous figure dressed in a black maxi-dress with a red, silk sashay tied around her waist. Her eyes glazed over and she blinked a few times.

"Katerina?"

"Who?" Charlotte asked and gestured the books towards her.

"No one, no one," the woman said flustered and shaking her head, "My name is Isla, are you looking to adopt or drop off?"

Isla took the books from the Charlotte's shaking hands, "I'm actually looking to adopt," she smiled gingerly.

"Lovely, absolutely lovely," Isla smiled with the same caution as Charlotte.

"Could I see your kittens?" Charlotte fumbled, unsure of what to say.

"Yes of course, I actually keep the kittens in the house. You look like a cat person, so I'm sure you understand," Isla rambled, leading Charlotte down a wide hallway to a backroom.

"I do," Charlotte shakily laughed.

Soft mewing came from behind the white that Isla pushed open slowly, checking behind the door. Following her in, Charlotte entered a room swarmed with little balls of fluff. Several grey tabbies run around, and one white, sleek kitten hopped around Isla's feet. Charlotte smiled, genuinely this time.

"I don't know about you," Isla said, her eyes on Charlotte as if she were waiting for some answer, "but I believe in letting the cat choose their companion."

"That makes sense," she replied with honesty.

She took a seat on the ground and Isla and two of them talked for what felt like hours about many things. Charlotte, for first time in months, told someone about the fire that took her family.

"I didn't find out for two days," her voice cracked, her heart shattering all over again.

"I lost a daughter many, many years ago," a shadow crossed Isla's face. "Never had I felt such pain."

"I'm so sorry," Charlotte's voice came out raw and she reached out to take Isla hand.

A tear ran down her wrinkled face and she squeezed Charlotte's thin hand. A small, thin black kitten flopped clumsily next Charlotte's leg. She used her free hand to stroke the kitten's soft coat. The little thing mewed and looked at her with green eyes, very similar to Isla's. She chuckled as the kitten used its short legs to bat at her long fingers. Her heart swelled as any normal person's would, in her opinion, at the sight of a friendly kitten.

"It seems you've been chosen," Isla said, sounding enchanted.

"It would seem so," she lifted the kitten into her arms where it curled up, purring.

"Her name is Sage. I found her four weeks ago as just a little thing in one of my daisy bushes. You wouldn't believe how many people just abandon these poor creatures rather than pay a five dollar few," Isla spat.

"Oh, that's horrible," Charlotte stroked Sage even more gently. "Is she old enough to adopt or should she stay with you a while longer?"

"Oh she's plenty old enough to adopt, in fact, in fact I think the sooner she goes home with you the better," she spoke as she got up and headed over to a stack of cardboard crates. "Felines are very smart and selective creatures. I've seen very few really chose who they leave with. You're special, Charlotte."

After half an hour of paperwork and more chattering, Charlotte was driving home with Sage, who slept contently in her crate with several soft blankets. As it turned out, Charlotte had spent five hours talking with Isla. For the first time since Charlotte came to the Tri Cities, she felt as though she had really made a friend. Isla understood her completely, even her grief. She had agreed to have tea with her on Friday morning. The drive seemed to go by in minutes and she was pulling into her driveway. She lifted the crate holding Sage gingerly and carried her into the house.

"Chester," she called in hushed voice, "I've brought home your sister."

She set the crate on her mattress and lifted Sage onto the comforter gently. Sage mewed happily and rubbed against her knees. Charlotte petted her behind the ears and looked around her living room. She had moved in a table and bookshelf early that morning along with a box of books and kitchen supplies. She looked at the bare walls, thinking about where she would hang her decorations in the coming weeks. After chewing on some advice given to her by Isla, she was going to make the best of her time here and maybe she'd find that a way to fill the emptiness she'd been feeling the past year. It was good advice that she certainly needed. Maybe she was searching for something she'd never truly find after losing her parents and only brother. She had spent the past year feeling sorry for herself and drowning in work that she hadn't taken the time to really grieve and feel all the emotions she'd been brushing off and subduing.

Lifting Sage onto her lap, Charlotte closed her eyes and let thoughts of her family into her mind. Her younger brother, obnoxious and sweet, his broad smile and brown hair and curly hair and her parents who had encouraged her to accept and try to understand everyone because behind everything action there was a motive. She thought about how her mother had held in her arms the first time she had made herself sick and the way her father pointed out everything that was perfect about her. She focused on all the love she had been exposed too. Sobs raked through her in the dusky room. Her lips quivered as she calmed herself. She hadn't thought about them for so long and she felt a sudden release. Her heart still felt heavy, but she wouldn't close off the feelings again.

Perhaps, it wouldn't be so bad here after all.

 _He watched his Charlotte cradle the small cat in her thin arms. He frowned. Why was she crying? He wondered if it had anything to do with the_ _ **dog**_ _she had met with at café. Anger boiled in chest and stomach. Pure and violent rage. He knew Charlotte was just playing. She loved games. He thought on his, wondering if she liked the letter he sent. It was their first time communicating with words. His heart thumped. He thought about what it would be like to stroke her the way she stroked the cat. Soon, soon, he told himself. Everything had to be done in time or else he might scare her. But for now he'd have to watch the dog-boy._

 _No one could come between him and his Charlotte._

 _No one._


	5. Chapter 4 PTI

**Chapter Four: Damn.**

The golden rays of sunshine beat down on Charlotte's face and drew her slowly out of sleep. The pitter-patter of paws bounding around her house forced her to open her eyes. Stiffly, she sat up and rubbed her eyes. She looked groggily around, searching for her cats. She saw Sage in the kitchen, hunched down like a hunter, and Chester's fluffy, orange tail whipped past the doorframe before he lunged. The two cats bounded off after each other and all she could do was to hope that they were playing. She turned to her side where her phone lay upside down charging. She clicked it on and checked the time. 11:02 A.M. She flopped back down and groaned. This was why no one wanted to teach night classes. She sat up and yawned. She felt strangeness about this morning; it felt fresh and new. It felt… good.

She kicked off the layers of blankets she had bundled herself in. Her bare feet touched the icy cold floor and shot tingles like slivers up her calves. She headed to her kitchen and opened her fridge. There wasn't much in there and by that she meant it was empty. She hadn't had time to go shopping and had been living off of Jamba Juice, Dutch Bros., Starbucks, and anywhere else that smoothies and coffee and possibly food could be found. She tapped the metallic handle and thought about whether she should go shopping or return to the café she visited yesterday. After a serious consideration of her bank account, Charlotte decided that it be better to make a shopping list and avoid her coffee stops for a bit.

A soft tail brushed against her leg and Sage nuzzled her ankle.

"Good morning," she itched behind Sage's tiny ears. "Where might your brother be?"

Charlotte peeked down the hall and then passed her table and few chairs. As she walked passed a yellow paw shot out and sunk its claws into her lower thigh. She yelped and jumped back. She frowned, examining the prickles of blood forming in dots on her fair skin. Bending over, Charlotte faced her wide eyed cat.

"Well, good morning to you too, Satan."

After Charlotte has dressed and slipped into her favorite burgundy mock neck dress, she put on a pair of brown heeled boots and flipped up her hair into her best bun- which wasn't very good as it seemed. She decided that it was the best she was going to get and darted out of the house with her keys and purse in hand. Outside it was colder than she expected since the sun was peeking through the clouds. She shivered and rubbed her hands together. While she locked her frosty car, Charlotte saw Ben talking with who she assumed was Mercy Hauptman in their driveway. Ben saw her too and held her gaze with aloofness in his eyes. She gulped and reminded herself about his harsh remark, that she honestly should simply forgive, but couldn't. She wasn't one to hold grudges, but there was something about Ben that made her think she's better off with her walls up. It was explainable at best, but it's what she felt.

She crawled into her seat and started up the engine. As she pulled out of the driveway she remembered something her mother had said. 'Forgiving and forgetting are different; forgive everything, Charlotte, but don't forget'. Her mother had whispered this when her college boyfriend had hit her and Charlotte was going to stay with him because she felt like if she couldn't forgive she didn't deserve forgiveness herself. Her mother's words changed that for her, though her insecurities that lead to that horrible relationship remained- Charlotte gained a sense of control she had never had before. As she drove through town, looking for the local Albertson's, she suddenly couldn't place what memory she was thinking of. It felt like someone had erased it from her head, but since she couldn't remember what she forgot, it simply didn't affect her.

She frowned, but continued with her day. She drove past a Walmart, but refused to enter that store. Sometimes, she could be a bit of a snob when it came to shopping. Feeling quite relaxing, Charlotte began to enjoy just driving around. It was peaceful, she thought, listening to a Foo Fighters' song that played on the radio station was becoming her favorite. She pulled into the Albertson's parking lot and parked her car close to the front. The parking lot was darn near empty so there wasn't much competition for good parking. Nice. She slipped out of her car and walked into the store, as she walked in side she was greeted unpleasantly by the frigid, refrigerated air. She shivered, yanking on the sleeves of her dress. She shrugged off the cold as best as she could. She snagged a green plastic cart and went to the produce isle.

Charlotte tapped her phone screen and looked at the little, digital list that she made months ago. She figured the list of stuff would still be applicable to her current needs. First on the list, apples, strawberries, cucumber, and carrots- ugh, why did she care so much about health? She mumbled complaints about herself as she piled the stuff into her cart. Next were coffee grounds, sea weeds crisps, and a few spices. She nodded her head, the list was improving. She gladly left the freezing the produce isles and went to the toasty, robust smelling isle of coffee and teas. She picked out two bags of coffee grounds; one dark and rich and the other a chocolate flavored one. She places a few teas into her cart after consideration. As she finished her list, Charlotte checked out, breaking the bank a bit.

She really needed to get her pay check soon. She went to her car and began unloading her groceries.

"How has your time here treated you?"

 _Thaddeus._

"Absolutely wonderful. I got another cat," Charlotte responded without turning around.

"Do you need help?" He asked and reached over her.

Charlotte spun around, ready to throw punches. "No, I do not."

"Is there something you wanted or can I continue with my life while it's still mine?" Her comment was harsh, but she felt this sudden rage that she couldn't control. He threatened her, challenged her, and got her stuck next to a pack of werewolves. He was probably the one who sent her that threatening letter as a sick joke.

Thaddeus looked wounded, but recovered quickly. "Yes, actually, I need to know how many students you've had recently."

"As if you don't know?"

He smiled.

"What. Do. You. Want?" She repeated.

"Just to check up on you," he replied and turned around, leaving her alone. "I'll be seeing you later."

"If you wanted to scare me, you didn't have to send me letters!" She shouted after him, "Your face does the trick!"

Now that she had reduced herself to a Middle School level, her mood was thrown into the gutter. Annoyance and the urge to beat him over took her as she started her car. Who did he think he was? Certainly he knew he didn't own Charlotte. She prayed for students to arrive to class so that she could give a long, long speech on the overstepping nature of _particular_ Fae. She drove back to her home and unloaded the groceries quickly, grateful to not see Ben's truck. After she finished, she grabbed a bag of sea weed crisps and sat down in front of her laptop and loaded up Netflix while her coffee brewed. Down the hall, her two cats chased after each other blissfully. She looked over and laughed. She was happy to have the noise in the otherwise quiet house.

She wondered if there was anyone she could call. While the cheesy horror movie played in the background, she went through her contacts. There really wasn't anyone she felt like she could call to just chat with. It stung. Turning her screen off, she turned her attention the movie. The characters were idiots, the ghost was a real bitch, and it was continually predictable. Overall, it was a good movie. After it ended, it was late in the afternoon and she started getting ready for her class. As she was doing so, there was a knock on her door. Charlotte wasn't exactly sure who it could be, she wasn't expecting anyone. Maybe it was Mercy finally come to meet her. The knocks became more and more aggressive as she walked to the door. A prickle of unease pinched at her nerves, but she forced to herself to the door anyway.

"Hey, hey," Charlotte muttered, more to make herself feel better, "I'm coming. Calm down."

Before she reached the door, it flung open and red faced Ben stood in her archway. He was holding a damp looking box that reeked on death. Her face fell and nausea swelled in her stomach.

"So it's you?" She snapped, holding back vomit.

"You haven't seen this before?" He asked, his accent sharper than ever.

"No, what is it?" Charlotte's heart raced and she watched the box intently.

"Do you know someone named Gabe?" Ben approached her, his movements were swift and violent.

"That's was my dad's name," she whispered, extending her arm for the box.

When her fingers grazed it a deathly realization hit her. She drew hand back and gaped the fresh stains of blood on her hand. She looked to Ben with horror filled eyes, pleading him for answers without saying a word. Ben's blue eyes bore into her skeptically and accusingly. He remained silent until she couldn't stand it for another minute.

"Dammit, let me see the box," her voice cracked.

Ben lowered his arm that had instinctively lifted itself out of Charlotte's reach. What was it to him if she saw what was inside? He watched her face shift into from fear and curiosity into horror and angst. She screamed and dropped the box, almost immediately running outside. He heard her gagging from where he stood and the foul stench of vomit followed. He pinched his brows together as he analyzed the oozing heart with a letter written to Charlotte tied around with lacy, black ribbon.

 ** _I won't stop killing until all the pretenders are dead and you remember me._**


End file.
